


The Many Sides Of You

by foxseal



Category: Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Magical Realism, Multiple Personalities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 07:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16300589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxseal/pseuds/foxseal
Summary: Seongwoo has no idea what to do when a bunch of spirits accidentally parade through Minhyun and change his personality in ways that, quite frankly, turn their world upside-down.





	The Many Sides Of You

**Author's Note:**

> ☆ for sirius rises round 4, prompt #14!  
> ☆ to prompter - i really hope this fic is at least a fraction of what you hoped it would be. i had a lot of fun playing around with the premises of this prompt and slipping in my own tiny details here and there, so thank you for giving me such a beautiful idea to work with!!! ♥  
> ☆ to fellow cultists - i hope you enjoy this modest contribution!!  
> ☆ to my beta reader; thank you for fixing my huge flaws, listening to my incessant whining, being the best headcanon-supplier and cheerleader anyone could ask for!!! my fics would literally not exist without you....... ♥  
> ☆ to SR mods, thank you for being so patient and kind. i feel so spoiled by all the new o/h content on the tag now!!

Seongwoo feels invincible.

The weather stayed nice all day, the audition went better than he expected, he’s at least one-hundred and five percent sure he’s got the role in the bag, _and_ he finished his errands earlier than expected, meaning he now has more time to spend at home with Minhyun. Everything is going right, it’s still four in the afternoon, and Seongwoo’s got a big bag of groceries to whip up a mind-blowing dinner with. Nothing can go wrong.

(How naive of him to think so.)

He comes home to see his boyfriend curled up on the couch with his glasses on, a book in hand and a small frown on his face. The sight is so familiar that it makes Seongwoo smile—whenever a manuscript is giving Minhyun a particularly hard time, he often lets off steam by quietly speed-reading a book, whether it’s for inspiration or simply to work out the frustration in his system, Seongwoo never quite understands.

Seeing Minhyun so consumed in his readings, he tiptoes his way inside, humming an abstract tune as he detours around the couch on his way to the kitchen to drop a small kiss on Minhyun’s cheek.

“Hey, baby.”

“Ugh. Don’t call me that.” Minhyun puts his book down and turns to him with a frown and crossed arms. “I’m _not_ a _baby_.”

Seongwoo’s eyebrows shoot up at the response.

True, Minhyun isn’t exactly the most generous when it comes to name-calling in the relationship, but he’s never been one to be revolted by it either. If anything, he’s always responded to Seongwoo’s endearments with a too-wide smile or a small blush, or even a moan, in not-so-innocent situations.

All-in-all, exchanging pet names has been a mutually positive experience for both of them, so Seongwoo has no idea what to make of this unprecedented outright refusal—especially when Minhyun has his bottom lip jutting out, like he’s _begging_ for attention, despite having stomped on Seongwoo’s attempts at being sweet just moments before.

“O…kay…” Seongwoo blinks, backing away slowly into the kitchen. Maybe the manuscript’s giving Minhyun a harder time than he thought. “Sorry, didn’t know you were having such a bad day.”

“I’m having a good day. But this book is hard to read.”

Seongwoo abandons the plastic bag of fruits he’s meant to arrange to walk over and read the title. He makes a face. “Minhyun. You’re reading _The Book Thief_. You already read that when you were way, waaaay younger.”

Minhyun’s face turns an adorable shade of red and he seems to hide behind the book, like he’s a five-foot boy instead of a built six-foot man. “Well I don’t remember. And it’s _hard,_ ” he mumbles.

“What, you’re acting so cute, you know you’re seriously like a baby—“

“Stop _calling_ me that.”

“Okay, okay,” says Seongwoo, wounded. “Just thought we agreed that it was okay for you to be _my_ baby.”

There’s a gagging noise behind him, and Seongwoo turns around, in disbelief as to what he’s just heard. “Look, I’m sorry, did I do something wrong?”

“What’s for dinner?” asks Minhyun instead, dismissing Seongwoo’s question.

“I got ingredients for a quick chicken stir-fry.” He tries to keep his voice under control, despite Minhyun dangerously starting to grate on his nerves. “Is that okay? Or would you rather have something else?”

“I want ice cream.”

Seongwoo feels a terrible pulse in his forehead. “We don’t have ice cream. It’s not even proper dinner, Minhyun.”

“But I want _ice cream._ ” He grabs at Seongwoo’s sleeve, almost pulling him backwards onto the couch, looking up at him with wide eyes and a pout. “Can we please get some ice cream?”

“You’re acting so fucking weird right now—“

“Pwease, _pwease_ get me an ice cream. I like vanilla.”

“Jesus, then go out and get some yourself, Minhyun, you’re a goddamn adult.”

“An adult?” Minhyun tilts his head adorably. “So if you’re ten years old, you’re not a kid anymore?”

Seongwoo blinks, and once his brain catches up he slaps a hand over his mouth because _shit_ , he just fucking swore in front of a ten-year-old.

But then his brain catches up some more and—

Wait—what?

 

 

* * *

 

**Day 1**

 

“Jinyoung?”

“Hi, hyung. It’s weird for you to call at this hour... Do you need me for something?”

“Help. I need help. Help me. I don’t know what to do.”

“Woah, hyung, okay. What’s going on?”

“I think Minhyun is aging backwards.”

“…Say again?”

Though only just a fresh grad on his first job, Seongwoo is convinced that Jinyoung has his shit more together than Seongwoo would ever have in twenty years. It’s the reason why he trusts the boy with his troubles—namely, weird, inexplicable shit that he has no idea how to deal with. Like having his boyfriend believe, with all the conviction he possesses, that he is no older than ten years old.

“You’re sure he didn’t just hit his head?” asks Jinyoung after Seongwoo’s calmed down enough to detail the last half hour or so to him.

“Positive.” That has been Seongwoo’s first thought too, and he’d gone through the pain of pinning the slightly sulky, sniffling Minhyun to the couch to thoroughly inspect his head. “No bumps, no scratch, no _nothing_. Oh my god, Jinyoung, I wish he really _did_ just hit his head because what if he’s going to be this whiny, we can’t have two babies in the house, _I’m_ the one Minhyun's supposed to be babying—”

“Okay—okay, calm down, hyung, I think I know what’s going on.” He hears light tapping noises in the background. “I’ve just done a quick search in news right now for something similar and I don’t think this is an isolated case. Ah, here; a festival fell into mayhem somewhere down in the South, and a stampede broke out because they couldn’t control the crowd size. I’m not sure what went on but… oh, they accidentally released a bunch of spirits throughout the country. The spirit herders have been dispatched, but it’s going to take a while before they round up all the spirits.”

“Wait... spirits?”

“Yep, either from other dimensions or even the deceased. Uh… according to this article I just pulled up, they will often ‘bump’ into living people on their way to crossing back into their realm and end up slipping into host bodies for a short period of time, or something like that. I’m sure there’s a more technical explanation to it, but I’d need more time to read.”

“No, that’s—that’s fine, Jinyoung.” Seongwoo’s starting to think he’s going to need an aspirin very soon. “So you’re telling me Minhyun’s possessed by some 10-year-old right now?”

“Not in the creepy, life-endangering sense but—yes, sort of. He’s taken on the characteristics of a 10-year-old-boy, probably from the boy’s spirit. But he’s still… himself, if that makes sense.”

“So he knows who I am, right?”

“Yeah, basic memories should still be intact.”

Seongwoo presses on his eyelids and breathes out over the receiver. “Oh my god, I have my boyfriend but I don’t have _him_ , I already miss _him_ can Minhyun just _come back_ —“

“Okay, okay, hyung, don’t freak out. It’s definitely a… weird, uh, _phenomenon_ , but it’s not productive to stress over things we have no control over.” Jinyoung hums. “For now, we just have to think of damage control. You should definitely call Minhyun-hyung’s workplace, first of all. Tell them he’s not going to be there for a while.”

“Okay.” The thought of _this_ happening beyond a couple of days is making Seongwoo a little frantic, but he lets out a huff of breath and says, “I can do that. Fine. Got it.”

“Stock up on food while you can. For now his… personality is still manageable, but who knows what he might turn into in the next few hours—he might be someone you can’t leave the house alone with. You may be stuck in there for a while.”

“Please stop making it sound like my boyfriend is going to incite a zombie apocalypse.”

“That… was really not my intention,” Jinyoung says slowly. “Next, you have to calm down. He’s the only one you have right now—so keep him out of trouble.”

Seongwoo manages to string up the last of his sanity to make a very sane, very friendly but slightly apologetic phone call to Minhyun’s workplace. He gets connected to Jisung, the HR manager, who very insistently assures him there is nothing to worry about and that Minhyun’s priority should be getting as much rest as possible.

With one worry out of the way, Seongwoo turns back to Minhyun, who’s taken to doodling on a page with some untended colour pencils they have in the living room.

“Are you…” he clears his throat, inching closer to Minhyun like he’s a wild animal (ten-year-olds can be scary, and he has no way of knowing if Minhyun will be any different). “Are you feeling okay?”

Minhyun looks up and looks as if he’s about to say something, but he’s interrupted by a big yawn. “I think I’m getting tired. Will you sit with me while I try to go to sleep?”

“You mean you want me to read you a bedtime story?”

“No! I told you I’m not a baby,” says Minhyun indignantly, to which Seongwoo lifts his hands in surrender.

“Woah, sorry man, ten years old was a long time ago for me, I don’t remember what we did back then.”

“It’s just,” Minhyun fiddles with his hands, eyes nervously flitting around the room. He gestures for Seongwoo to come closer, and whispers in his ear quickly when he does: “I’mscaredofthedark.”

“What?”

“I’m,” Minhyun whispers again, “Scared. Of the dark.”

Seongwoo pulls away in surprise and looks down at Minhyun, who’s refusing to meet his eyes and is sporting a tinge of red high on his cheeks.

“The dark—?”

“I know, I know! I’m a big boy now, I shouldn’t be scared but. I still am.”

Seeing Minhyun pick at his nails and mumbling as if in shame, looking self-conscious about something so _trivial_ kick-starts something in Seongwoo. He feels the urge to wrap Minhyun in his arms and become his shield against anything he might cower in fear before, to fend off all the evil that dare encroach the safe oasis they’ve made for themselves.

“Of course,” he says gently, slinging an arm around Minhyun’s shoulders in what he hopes is a gentle, reassuring manner. “Let’s get you dressed for bed and… uh, I’ll tuck you in? I can do some work at the desk.”

It should feel weird, helping your boyfriend wash his face and brush his teeth and button up his pajama top like he’s incapable of doing it himself—but when Minhyun hops into bed looking refreshed, all previous complicated feelings in his chest get pushed to the side to make way for only a few: fondness and pride.

“Good night, Minhyun,” he whispers. “I hope you get better in the morning.”

“Good night,” Minhyun replies, and Seongwoo can hear the smile of contentment in his voice.

 

 

* * *

 

**Day 2**

 

Seongwoo knows he has to learn not to let his guard down during this period of time, no matter how harmless his boyfriend may seem the night before.

He just wishes it doesn’t have to take having the kitchen on fire to learn the lesson.

“What the hell?” Seongwoo chokes out as he staggers in the general direction of the kitchen in nothing but his boxers, where smoke is spouting out from the doorway in heavy, white sheets.

“My lamb!” he hears a wail before even stepping inside the kitchen. He has half a mind to ask, but the overhead fire alarm is doing a number on his ears and there’s _much more_ pressing matters to tend to, so he ignores the complaint, hides the bottom half of his face in his arm and plunges inside.

Once the exhaust has been turned on— _why wasn’t it on in the first place?_ —the side window of their kitchen’s been thrown open and most of the smoke has cleared away, Seongwoo sits in the middle of the kitchen floor panting heavily and staring up at his boyfriend who, despite nearly setting the entire apartment on fire, looks on the most part unruffled save for the distress in his eyes as he stares at the black lump sitting in the baking tray. He’s wearing a purple apron, which Seongwoo bought for him as a joke when they first moved in together in the hopes that it would give both of them the incentive to _actually use_ the kitchen. Minhyun had laughed and given him a cute punch to the shoulder in retaliation, but never actually wore it.

Under normal circumstances, Seongwoo would probably have climbed Minhyun that very second—purple is a good colour on him—but for now—

“What a waste of a beautiful cut of lamb,” Minhyun laments, eyes still fixed on the pile of charcoal that was, apparently, a lamb just moments before.

“Lamb?” Seongwoo deadpans, staring at Minhyun incredulously. “Lamb. _Lamb_. You’ve never cooked anything more than ready-to-eat chicken before, and now you’re cooking _lamb_. Why were you cooking lamb, exactly?"

“I was trying to make lamb roulade.”

“Lamb… roulade?”

“Yes. Sweet bread lamb roulade. I need to perfect its recipe for my pop-up restaurant—look, I even wrote it down as soon as I woke up.” Minhyun digs into the front pocket of the apron to pull out a notebook full of his neat scribbles. “I followed everything, but I still ruined it.”

“Oh sweet Je—how did that spirit even run into you?” Seongwoo whispers under his breath, hands in his hair. “You were at home all night.”

“What?”

Seongwoo closes his eyes and rests his head on the cabinet door, groaning. “If you’re going to be possessed by a chef ghost, at least make sure he’s a good one!”

“You’re right. I…I really am not good, aren’t I?” Seongwoo’s eyes fly open and—oh no. Minhyun is smiling but his eyes are downcast—the curve of his lips isn’t the mirthful, mischievous one he’s so used to, but one so full of melancholy and self-doubt it looks foreign on his face. Seongwoo wants it _gone_ immediately. “I’ll never be a chef.”

“No, Minhyun—babe,” he scrambles to his feet and gently cups Minhyun’s face. He tries to track back what Jinyoung told him before, about memories being intact. “Listen—what I meant was, you can be anything you want. I know you can—what do I always say?”

“I don’t know,” mumbles Minhyun, the tips of his ears turning pink.

“I _know_ that you have the capability to be the best at whatever you put your mind to. And I’ll always support you, whatever you decide to do. You know that, right?”

He tips Minhyun’s chin up, and he knows this spirit thing is temporary—heck, everything will probably change up again in no more than ten minutes, and none of this would matter anymore. But seeing Minhyun so _upset_ —over what _he’s_ said, no less—just isn’t something Seongwoo can live with, even for ten minutes.

“You can do anything, but everything takes time. How about we start off with something simple, like, uh, pasta? Or maybe some fancy toast dish. Skill isn’t something anyone can develop overnight, you know.”

He smiles, pulls away from Seongwoo’s grip and starts cleaning up tissues strewn around the kitchen he’d left behind. “Yeah, not something anyone can do but you.”

“Huh?”

“Everytime you want to do something, you always get good at it really quickly. I just want to be a little like that.”

The lucidity with which Minhyun seems to remember everything in his normal life is disorienting to say the least, but it only makes Seongwoo feel even worse. It’s likely that Minhyun’s memory will stay intact the entire time—will he remember feeling despair in failure? Fearing his dream will never be achieved? Will he remember being hurt by Seongwoo’s words?

As Minhyun wipes the counters down—with less enthusiasm than usual—Seongwoo shuffles over to the black lump still sitting in the baking tray. He takes a fork from one of the drawers, pries away the black, burnt bits and is surprised to see that yes, there is still _some_ meat left there. Taking whatever salvageable piece is left behind, he closes his eyes, reassures himself that he's doing this for no one but the love of his life, prays to any deity above that he’ll survive the food poisoning and puts the morsel of food in his mouth.

“Hmm,” he chews slowly, trying not to breathe through his nose. “Hey, Minhyun, you know. This isn’t that bad.”

Minhyun almost knocks him over from how quickly he spins around. He wouldn’t hesitate to say there are actual stars in Minhyun’s eyes. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Seongwoo says, smile tight, before quickly saying, “But you know what would taste better? Pasta.”

Minhyun ends up cutting some of the least inedible pieces of the lamb up to throw into the pasta he makes for lunch—which, thankfully, turns out just fine. It’s only been a day, but Seongwoo’s already missing the easy, staccato laughter Minhyun so often elicits on a normal basis around him. It’s one of the things Seongwoo takes most pride in—being able to crack open that shell of control Minhyun had when they first met, to finally having the privilege to be the recipient of every sincere laugh and every wide smile.

And if eating garbage food is all it takes to see Minhyun laughing again during this funky period of time, then Seongwoo will gladly stomach all the burnt out lamb pieces needed.

 

 

* * *

 

**Day 3**

 

He slips out of bed that morning to go for a quick morning jog—he means to wake Minhyun up so he’s not left alone at home, but Minhyun had looked so sound asleep it had felt criminal to disturb his peace. Plus, if this is the rest Minhyun needs to recalibrate back to his normal self, then no way does Seongwoo want to mess with it.

He really should have known better.

“You’ve got to be _joking_.”

Seongwoo looks up at his boyfriend who’s clutching onto the branch of a tree in the middle of the park just outside their apartment block, his wide eyes looking terrified as he scans the ground below, flickering over to Seongwoo once in a while like he’s sending out a silent distress signal. He looks massive, hanging onto the spindly branch. The tree, although not awfully tall, is still high enough for Minhyun to break _something_ if he were to simply jump down. People are staring and muttering as they walk past. This is most probably not even legal.

“How did you get up there? This only happens in cartoons—cats _never_ get stuck up trees in real life, Minhyun! _Never!”_

Then things take a turn for the worse because Minhyun starts _mewling_ —this sad, high-pitched wailing noise from the back of his throat. And god, if it doesn’t break Seongwoo’s heart despite his disbelief.

“I’ll be back. Hang on,” he tells Minhyun, which seems to be a redundant thing to say.  

He knows what usually happens, but he is _not_ calling the fire department for this. Pulling a few strings with a side trick of cheesy one-liners, Seongwoo manages to retrieve a ladder from one of their elderly neighbours, which he lugs all the way to the park, trying to keep Minhyun’s sweet laugh in mind the entire time as motivation to go on; the laugh that he would finally, _finally_ be able to hear. He rests the ladder onto the tree trunk and climbs it, holding his arms out when he reaches the top.

“Come here, Minhyun. That’s it,” he says when Minhyun starts to move along the branch. “That’s it, good kitty, good bo—wait, no, what are you doing—“

Seongwoo should have taken into factor Minhyun’s possibly heightened clinginess in this state—with Minhyun immediately wrapping himself around Seongwoo, the ladder shakes under his flailing and their combined weights, and Seongwoo only has time to shuffle down three steps before the ladder tips over. The next second, he finds himself thrown onto his back on the grass, all six-foot of Minhyun crashing down with him and the ladder (mercifully) hurled onto the ground next to his feet.

He gasps, trying to gulp down as much air as he can and hoping like crazy his arm is still in one piece. Minhyun is mewling less now, and is instead giving Seongwoo kitten licks all over his face as if thanking him for breaking his fall.

Eventually Seongwoo has to push him away, grab him by the armpits and shake him like he’s reprimanding a four-kilogram cat instead of a fully grown man. Minhyun lets out a yowl in response, face scrunched up.

“You’re driving me crazy,” Seongwoo hisses and glares at him. “Can't you just sit still at home for a day?"

Minhyun just blinks back, his eyes wide and innocent but not blank. In fact, there’s a glimmer there when he shuffles in to nuzzle under Seongwoo’s chin, warm nose pressing up against Seongwoo’s cool neck and making him shiver all along his back. Minhyun doesn’t even let up when Seongwoo tries to lean back, latching on even tighter and uncaring of Seongwoo’s protests. He freezes when a deep rumble reverberates through Minhyun's entire body.

Oh god. Minhyun is _purring_.

Seongwoo feels something warm stir in the pit of his stomach and tries not to scream. “Oh my god."

 

 

* * *

 

**Day 4**

 

There’s nothing like being woken up by having your boyfriend drop-kick you onto the ground.

“K.O.!”

“What the fuck,” he wheezes, before shoving Minhyun back into the room and attempting to catch all the breath knocked out of his lungs.

 

 

* * *

 

  
The next time he opens the door, Minhyun is wearing some gaudy sparkly jacket (Seongwoo didn’t even know he owned something so atrocious) and is splayed out on the floor. At first Seongwoo thinks he’s writhing, but at a closer look, he realises that Minhyun's dancing—dancing a choreography with a few too many hip movements and background music Seongwoo can’t hear.

They make eye contact, and Minhyun seems to snap out of it because he scrambles to his feet, bows ninety-degrees, makes several hand gestures and says, with all the boisterousness he can muster:

“One, two, three. All I wanna do! Wanna One! Hello, we are—“

Seongwoo shuts the door in his face.

 

* * *

 

He hasn’t heard any door-banging or the like for the next few hours until just before dinner, so he braves another peek into the room. He quickly wishes he hadn’t done so, because Minhyun is in speedos doing painful-looking stretches on the mat he’d laid out for himself.

It’s hard not to get distracted by all the back muscles flexing in his face, but Seongwoo tries to focus on the task at hand. Minhyun’s got swimming goggles strapped around his head and his hair is pushed back, and Seongwoo doesn’t even get a word in edgewise before Minhyun turns to him and says, “I’ve got a competition I need to win. I need to train. Seongwoo, where’s the nearest public pool?”

So Seongwoo draws up a tub of warm water, pushes Minhyun inside the bathroom and locks him in.

The spirits must be having one hell of a party with Minhyun as their host—but Seongwoo honestly just wants the day, and the whole mess, to be over.

 

* * *

 

 

**Day 5**

 

It’s becoming a habit for Seongwoo to wake up from his uncomfortable sleeping position on the couch poised for combat, like he’s expecting the worst—and usually he’s not too far off. Like this morning, when he means to check up on Minhyun’s locked room only to see that the locking mechanism’s been taken apart, a screwdriver and a hairpin lying on the ground beside its remains.

Panic is an understatement. He tries calling Minhyun, but quickly finds out that his boyfriend’s left his phone behind—he can’t, for the life of him, think of anything so urgent and time-sensitive that Minhyun’s literally broken his way out of his own room and left his phone. He hasn’t even written a note to explain his disappearance.

As the plots to hunt down these spirits and ask them for his boyfriend back begin to take form in Seongwoo’s mind, the door swings open and Minhyun walks in carrying two heavy-looking grocery bags. They make awfully loud clinking noises as Minhyun stumbles while toeing his shoes off, grinning almost maniacally the entire time.

“Seongwoo! You’re awake! Perfect timing.”

“Where have you been?” he tries not to sound hysterical. “Your _broke_ the _lock_ to your door!”

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t that hard to take apart.” He ignores Seongwoo’s choked-back scream, and gestures at the grocery bags instead. “Sorry. I couldn’t sit around waiting until you woke up to go to the store. Obviously, I had to get my boyfriend and myself some _treats_.”

All his anger evaporates when Seongwoo hears the _clink-clink-clang_ of the bags, and as happy as he is to know that Minhyun remembers exactly what Seongwoo's role is in his life, he still narrows his eyes at Minhyun with all the trepidation he can muster. “What did you get us?”

Minhyun gives him a grin that curves his eyes so dangerously pretty, digs into one of the bags and brandishes a frosted glass bottle with a red topper.

“Ta-da!” he waves the bottle around. “Chopin!”

“Holy shit,” Seongwoo feels his heart sink, and he drags his hands down his face. “You got us _vodka_?”

“And other things, of course.” Dragging the bags next to the couch, he deposits the bottle onto the carpeted floor before continuing to rummage through his shopping bag like a thief going through his loot. “I also got us some flavoured soju, a couple of bottles of whiskey—we can have that with our breakfast? Champagne, maybe with our lunch, because every lunch is a cause for celebration right? And oh, that red wine you really like. I saw the almost-empty bottle in the cupboard. And then there’s also a few cans of beers, just to eat with our dinner before we get to the real stuff—"

“Did you steal all this?”

“What? Of course, not, Seongwoo, I’m a law-abiding citizen.”

Seongwoo’s head is spinning. “How much did all this cost?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s on me. We have to try everything,” he smacks his lips, closing his eyes and breathing in deep like he’s standing on the edge of a sea cliff. “It feels like I haven’t even a single sip in _ages_.”

“That’s because you probably stopped drinking ever since you turned legal,” rebukes Seongwoo, but his rebuttal falls on deaf ears as Minhyun saunters over to retrieve two juice glasses from the the kitchen drawers.

“Why don’t we have wine glasses?”

“Because we barely drink at home?”

“That’s insane.”

 _No, you’re insane,_ Seongwoo wants to cry out when he watches Minhyun plop down on the ground in front of him with a grin and a sparkle in his eye—except the sparkle scares the hell out of him, no less than the words that come out of his mouth: “It’s still early. Shall we start with white wine?”

“That is such twisted logic,” Seongwoo whispers in horror as Minhyun simply slides the capsule off the top of the wine bottle in one sweeping movement, looking so practiced Seongwoo gapes as he watches. He’s so dumbstruck that he almost doesn’t register Minhyun bringing the glass to his lips.

“Woah, woah, no, mister—you’re not doing that!”

Clearly annoyed from having his glass snatched out of him so abruptly, Minhyun frowns at Seongwoo. “Why _not?"_

“You _hate_ alcohol. No way. You’re not drinking this. You’re going to regret this so much tomorrow. Or whenever you snap out of it.”

“Snap out of what?”

“You’re not yourself, Minhyun!” Seongwoo shakes the glass as much as he can without spilling anything. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself because you’re out of your right mind.”

“I’m just going to have a sip, it’s no big deal.”

Seongwoo gives him a look. “Be honest, Minhyun, are you _really_ going to stop after one sip?”

“I can make my own decisions, Seongwoo, give me back my glass—“

“Nope, I’m going to protect _my_ Minhyun from whatever evil spirit is in him right now!”

“Fine, then I’ll just take yours—“

“—oh, no, you’re not having that one either!”

Before Minhyun can make another move to snatch the glasses from his hands, Seongwoo downs both drinks in succession, grimacing when he feels the slight burn from the wine go down his throat.

“Hey!” Minhyun crosses his arms, his eyes sharp with annoyance. “Now you’re just being greedy.”

“I’m just—doing what’s right.” He shakes his head, and when he sees Minhyun _still_ annoyed he gasps. “Oh my god, you’re losing control of yourself, aren’t you? Soon the spirits will consume your soul and you’ll just be an _empty vessel_ —“

“Now who’s out of his mind?” Seemingly pleased with this, Minhyun pours another portion in each glass and hands one to Seongwoo with a wink. “I’m telling you, alcohol will solve everything. Drink up.”

Seongwoo quickly realises he has to stage an intervention before Minhyun does something he’s going to regret terribly the next morning, so he does what his short-wired brain is capable of planning in a situation of emergency.

He knocks the glass out of Minhyun’s hand, pushes him backwards and throws himself down to slot his lips over Minhyun’s.

It doesn’t take long for Minhyun to stop struggling under his hold—not when Seongwoo has him by his hair, nipping and biting at his lips until Minhyun lets out a loud moan and relents. He sucks Minhyun’s top lip with a hiss before releasing it, then lets his mouth hang open in invitation. Minhyun’s hands scramble to clutch at his shirt, hips bucking up as their tongues rub against each other in a sensual tempo at first, then sloppier, more desperate—and a thought crashes into Seongwoo’s mind.

“Wait— _hah_ —wait,” he pushes away with much difficulty, trying not to get distracted by how fucked-out Minhyun looks under him with his swollen, red lips and dilated pupils. “You’re not trying to taste alcohol on me, right?”

Minhyun looks adorably lost. “You know, usually I only ever wanna kiss someone when I’m drunk. I’m completely sober now,” His eyes dart back down to Seongwoo’s lips, a whine escaping. “But I just feel like kissing you all the time.”

He tries not to preen with satisfaction. “Yeah, well,” Seongwoo reels him in with hands on his collar, pulling him up as he drags his teeth down Minhyun’s throat, listening to the low rumble he elicits. “I’m your boyfriend, so maybe you can get drunk on my lips instead.”  

 

* * *

 

**Day 6**

 

Apparently Seongwoo isn’t the only one on this rocky boat. When he calls Daniel, his co-worker in the studio, on his way back from a sprint to the grocery shop in the hopes of a small rant, he gets beaten to it first when Daniel picks up on the first ring with relief clear in his voice.

“He thinks he’s some gaming world champion now,” sighs Daniel after he’d explained that yes, Jihoon is going through the same thing as Minhyun, though Seongwoo can tell even from the receiver that Daniel is nowhere near close to being exasperated, or even tired for that matter. If anything, Daniel sounds awfully affectionate. “Wouldn’t leave his seat unless I physically drag him away and make him eat dinner. Gets really riled up too—it’s a little cute when he gets super frustrated, but he’s been shouting and hissing so much these past few days I kind of want to move the computer to the living room so I can take a proper nap.”

“Wait. _Several days_?” Seongwoo pauses as he digs through his wallet for his access card. “You mean he’s been like that for days… without change?”

“Yes?” Daniel gasps. “Wait. Don’t tell me—“

“Every day, Daniel. _Every._ Single. Day. It’s a new spirit. Once it was even _three_ in a row.”

“No!”

“Yes!” whines Seongwoo, as he hikes up the two flights of stairs to their first-floor apartment. “I only managed to get out of the house for some groceries today because he overslept. Last night was the worst. I had to stay up and try to stop the alcoholic spirit in him from drinking all the alcohol he bought on a whim.”

“So, what’d you do? Did you just hide all the bottles?”

“No. I had to think up of a distraction,” Seongwoo rubs the sleepiness away from his eyes. “Had to keep making out with him so he’d forget.”

Daniel’s laugh is almost deafening, even when Seongwoo turns the volume down to the lowest bar. “Oh my god, hyung! That doesn’t sound like something you’d be complaining about.”

“I would be living the _dream_ , if I got any sleep with it. And if Minhyun was acting just a little less weird.” He tries not to sound too pathetic over the phone, before a thought occurs to him. “Why do you think we haven’t been possessed, by the way?”

“Dunno? Maybe the spirits are smart. Maybe Minhyun-hyung and Jihoon are easier to possess. Oh, maybe they know if both people under one roof go whack, the entire place collapses.”

“Wow. How thoughtful,” says Seongwoo dubiously. “Look, I gotta go, Daniel, tell Jihoon I say hi even if he—“  

The door slams behind him before Seongwoo can even properly take his shoes off, and his back meets the hard wood in his surprised leap. He holds his arm out in a defensive stance before realising that no serial killer has sneaked into his home.

It’s just Minhyun who’s slammed the door shut—but it’s Minhyun who is barely dressed, donning a silk night robe that’s untied, revealing a seemingly endless expanse of smooth, pale skin and the tell-tale lines of a well-built torso, only interrupted by a pair of dark briefs that are so sinfully tight it’s impossible not to be drawn to them.

“Uh.” It takes all of Seongwoo’s willpower to look away from Minhyun’s nether regions. “What are you this time?”

Minhyun smirk, traces a hand down his neck slowly until he reaches the collar of Seongwoo’s polo shirt, which he starts unbuttoning. He’s speaking—his voice is sultry, velvety smooth, a deep tenor to each word like his tongue is rolling over every syllable, and Seongwoo’s so distracted by the sound he nearly doesn’t realise he has no idea what Minhyun is saying.

“What are you saying?” he frowns, and Minhyun frowns with him. He tries to enunciate a few more words, this time slower, and Seongwoo recognises the rolls of those _R_ s and the soft consonants from all those old-school movies Minhyun made him watch once upon a time.

“Are you speaking _French_?” he asks in futile, because of course Minhyun just tilts his head with a grin like he’s just made the best joke ever, eyes curving into crescents that are so innocent it catches Seongwoo off-guard when Minhyun drags him closer by his belt loops.

Then Minhyun is shrugging his robe off, letting the piece of clothing fall gracefully to the floor before taking one, two, three steps backwards, never letting the flirtatious smile leave his lips. Seongwoo tries to say something, but it comes out as a blubber when Minhyun abruptly spins him around to push him onto his work chair in their master bedroom.

“Minhyun—“ Seongwoo's words quickly die on his tongue when Minhyun throws his legs over the chair, climbs onto his lap and starts rolling his hips in ways so sinful it has Seongwoo throwing his head back and groaning, hands flying to find purchase on his waist. “Minhyun—I don’t understand French—“

Minhyun says something else—and Seongwoo thinks he can guess, probably said something about not needing languages to communicate or something, because soon Minhyun’s lips find his in a slow dance—so different to the borderline forceful kisses from last night when Minhyun was seeking distraction—was using Seongwoo as one and Seongwoo was letting him. Now, they’re drawn out, teasing as Minhyun keeps his lips pressed together before swiping his tongue across the seams of Seongwoo’s own, giving kittenish licks as if begging for entrance.

“Stop, I need to get something straight.” Thankfully, Minhyun seems to understand this word, immediately pulling back with a pop and a soft pant. He stares down at Seongwoo with a mix of care and hunger so intense it makes Seongwoo shudder. He points at Minhyun. “What’s your name?”

“ _Nom?_ Minhyun.”

He points at himself. “What’s _my_ name?”

“Seongwoo.”

“Who am I?” Minhyun’s frown grows deeper, and Seongwoo lets out a groan as he makes a grab for his phone in his pocket and quickly types the phrase into google translate. So much for maintaining a boner. “ _Qui?_ Me, _qui?_ ”

A smile spreads across Minhyun’s face—not the alluring, coy smirk he had on just moments ago. This smile is tender, like Seongwoo is holding his entire world and Minhyun’s a spectator watching in awe.

“ _Tu es mon amour._ ”

“Oh, okay, well. Fuck,” concludes Seongwoo as he dives back in to take Minhyun’s lips in his, this time with newfound fervour. Even he doesn’t need a translator to know confirmation when he hears it.

Turns out seducer Minhyun is a lot more experimental than everyday Minhyun, and when Seongwoo comes for the second time that afternoon he briefly thinks that maybe, _maybe_ , it’s not so bad after all.

Maybe it’s actually fantastic.    

Unfortunately by the time Minhyun asks for a sixth round, the sentiment has long withered away.

 

 

* * *

 

**Day 7**

 

The second Minhyun comes to, there is the sharp smell of sex around him, and from the kinks in his back and arms it’s not hard to guess what he’s been up to the night before. Strangely, the memories are fuzzy to him, but he grins anyway as he wiggles around, basking in the pleasant ache all over his body that is no doubt the result of a good night’s lay.

There’s a warm weight on his back, and thinking of his most likely still sleeping boyfriend only makes his grin wider. He really needs to ask Seongwoo what they did the night before, and check up on him, of course, because the aches are no joke. He rolls over, only to squeak in surprise when he sees Seongwoo glaring at him, tell-tales of lost sleep like dark pools under his eyes.

“Oh, you scared me.” He scoots closer, blinking like he usually does when he’s hoping for a morning kiss—except this time Seongwoo isn’t immediately peppering his face with kisses and it feels like he’s missing something. “What are you so gloomy for?”

“Minhyun,” Seongwoo sounds exhausted, looks it too, from the way he closes his eyes in exasperation. “Can you please take a look at the room?”

Confused, but too blissed-out to complain, Minhyun props himself on one arm meaning to take a quick glance and get his morning kiss reward as soon as possible. But the sight he’s met with has him freezing on the spot—he takes in what looks like a ripped polo shirt strewn across the dresser, the many badly-knotted ties lying on the floor, the haphazardly thrown towels around the room and—to his horror—Seongwoo’s now lopsided work chair, one of its legs broken and its right armrest hanging by the last of its hinges.

“What the—did I go to bed without clearing up this mess?” he shrieks.

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” Seongwoo groans, throwing his head back onto the pillow and sighing a heavy, pent-up sigh. His neck is smattered with love bites. “You’re back. The spirits are gone. Welcome back, baby.”

“Seongwoo, oh my god. What did we _do_ last night?”

He doesn’t seem to hear Minhyun. “I swear to god, if I had to take another day, I don’t think I would have survived.”

“What are you on about?”

Seongwoo drags him down so they lie face-to-face on their sides, and gives him the biggest pout he’s ever seen in his life. “You were possessed by no less than seven different spirits and I had to take care of you the entire time.”

Minhyun tries to process this—now that he’s fully awake, bits and pieces of memories start flooding in—getting stuck up a tree, somehow seeing the oven nearly go up in flames, attempting to swim in the bathtub, tying Seongwoo onto his work chair—

“Oh, no,” he hides his face in his hands. “They’re all coming back to me.”

“There, there,” Seongwoo pats his back soothingly. “You didn’t do permanent damage, don’t worry. Well, except to the kitchen. And some parts of the bedroom.”

“I was a cat at some point.”

“Yep, you were.”

“And I almost—oh, god, thank you for not letting me drink that vodka. Or that whiskey. Or beer. Or wine.”

Though visibly still tired, Seongwoo chuckles and throws him a blinding grin. “That was actually one of the better spirits to deal with. Lost sleep, but I got to make out with you all night.”

“Well, I did enjoy having all your attention.”

“I’ll give you all the attention you need, but please never do that again,” mumbles Seongwoo without thinking, which earns him a melodious laugh and a hair ruffle from Minhyun.

They lie there in silence for a while, simply enjoying having each other back the way they’ve always known. But soon the carefree lines of Seongwoo’s bare shoulders start to tense up, belying a thought weighing in on his mind—but he doesn’t say anything, so Minhyun sighs and gently wraps an arm around his torso, caressing his side.

“What is it, hm?” he murmurs. “You can tell me. I swear I won’t go berserk and wreck the bed or anything.”

Seongwoo lets out a laugh, but it’s cut short as he bites his lip in thought. Minhyun entertains himself as he waits by tracing the droop of Seongwoo’s eyes, the soft bridge of his nose in the morning light and the way his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows back the lump in his throat. Almost instinctively, he presses a kiss to the side of his neck.

“Come on,” he urges again, still gentle.

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I might have hurt you with my words, at some point. I didn’t mean them; I was just. Really frustrated. And if I ever made you doubt yourself—”

“Hey, hey, slow down, tiger,” laughs Minhyun. “Is this about the chef one? You’re forgetting that the ambition came from the spirit. Unfortunately, I can’t be given credit for them.”

“Yeah, but you still felt it. And I kind of… I don’t know, stepped on your dreams, I guess.” Seongwoo is looking at him now, eyes full of concern. “I don’t want to be the one who does that to you.”

“I know that. And you made sure I knew that, remember?”  

Seongwoo smiles, but he’s clearly still not satisfied. “You know what you said when I kind of got mad at you for almost burning the kitchen down?”

Minhyun rolls his eyes fondly. “I wouldn’t call that getting _mad_ ,” he sighs. “But I said a lot of things. Which one do you mean?”

“The one, um,” he fiddles with the edge of the comforter by his chest. “When you said you just wanted to learn everything quickly…”

The sentence clicks in Minhyun’s mind, and he lets out a knowing _ah_. He pecks Seongwoo’s cheek. “Well, it’s just something I have to live with when I’m dating an over-achieving prodigy, right?”

“I wanted to tell you that you’re the same.” Seongwoo says quickly, smiling at him. “Maybe I’m lucky that the things I’m good at are obvious, but you’re the same, Minhyun. With words, and with books. They’re harder to see, but they’re more precious, I think. The things that go _here_ ,” chuckles Seongwoo, tapping on Minhyun’s head.

Something warm spreads in his chest and he presses his face into the crook between Seongwoo’s neck and shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, because he can tell when Seongwoo is taking the pains to be sincere.

“You’re welcome,” Seongwoo yawns. “You know, Jihoon got possessed too, but only by a single spirit.”

“Only one?” Minhyun frowns. “How come?”

“Dunno. Also, Daniel and I didn’t get possessed even once,” he tilts his head. “Think you know why?”

Minhyun blinks rapidly at the ceiling, cataloguing every spirit that he remembers passing through his body and trying to find a common theme. After a few moments of contemplation, realisation dawns on him; he turns to Seongwoo and asks, “Do you happen to know what spirit possessed Jihoon?”

“Daniel mentioned an e-sports champion, or something.”

“Oh,” Minhyun says quietly, burying half his face in the pillow as he feels his face heat up. “Okay. That makes sense.”

“Huh? You’ve got a guess?” Seongwoo bounces in his spot, propping his head up on his elbow in interest. “Tell me, tell me.”

“Promise you won’t laugh,” warns Minhyun.

“Promise. Cross my heart, hope to die, yada-yada.”

“Seongwoo, I’m _serious_.”

“So am I!”

Minhyun gives him a look and lets out a breath, heart thudding in his chest. “A while ago, Jihoon complained to me that every time he and Daniel watch a gaming tournament together, Daniel would fawn over the best players like crazy. Like, he'd praise them until he turns blue in the face or something. Jihoon's words, not mine.”

He stops, hoping Seongwoo would connect the dots by himself, but clearly he’s asking for too much. “So?”

“So, uh… _god_ , do I have to spell it out for you?”

“Uh, yes?” Seongwoo blinks. “I’m not seeing it right now…”

Minhyun fiddles with his hair, trying to even out his bangs. “I think… I guess we must have attracted the spirits of people we wish to be when we’re in our, um, less rational state of emotions. Maybe they were drawn to those energies, you know, the feelings of, uh…”

Seongwo clicks his fingers. “Oh! Jealousy?”

Letting out a sigh full of shame, Minhyun mumbles, “Can you not say it like that? I’d rather say it was the reflection of our self-perceived shortcomings; alternate beings we wanted to be that the spirits felt _wanted_ —”

“You get jealous _this_ often?”

“Once again, it’s not _jealousy_ per se…” Groaning as if in pain, Minhyun lightly cuffs Seongwoo’s chest in indignation. “You can’t blame me! Try having someone as irresistible as _you_ as a boyfriend.”

Seongwoo lets out a loud laugh, clutching his stomach. “Wait, wait—you were so jealous you wanted to be a _cat?_ ”

“You were so good with animals! It was just—just a fleeting thought I had, a long time ago…”

“A ten year-old-kid?”

“Remember when we went to the beach? And there was a kid who built a sand castle? You got him some candies just for smiling at you…”

“A swimming athlete?”

“You always said they had great muscles.”

“An alcohol enthusiast? A _French seducer_?”

Minhyun can’t help it; he must be burning down to his chest, and he hides it as much as possible behind the comforter. “You always have so much fun drinking with your friends. And I always worry that I’m too, you know. _Boring_. I just wanted to be someone interesting—”

He’s cut off by a pair of lips on his, pressing insistently and slowly teasing his tongue out. Seongwoo pulls apart after a while, and Minhyun is left with his lips tingling.

“I went a whole week without you and I could feel my soul shriveling up. Minhyun, I’m not _kidding_ ,” he insists when Minhyun tries to call him out for hyperbole. “I’m serious. I missed you so much; all I could think of whenever a new spirit possessed you were all the funny stories I’d be able to tell you when you got back to normal. I wanted my best friend back so I could make him laugh again and he could let me sleep in his arms. I wanted my soulmate back so we could make out and I wouldn’t feel like something was missing, so I could feel _complete_.”

“Watch it, if you don’t stop you’ll end up as the published author between us,” Minhyun mutters, but he can’t tone down the stupid smile on his face. “What are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is, Minhyun, even though there were some interesting alternative renditions, _this_ version of you is my favourite.” Seongwoo’s grin is lop-sided as he pokes a finger at Minhyun’s chest. “ _My_ Minhyun.”

Minhyun can’t help it; he surges forwards for another kiss, morning breath be damned, trying to convey all the words he can’t write down for once in every meeting of their lips and every touch he leaves behind like imprints on Seongwoo’s skin.

“I missed you, babe,” Seongwoo says in the space between their faces as they part.

“Missed you too. And thanks for uh, well. I guess for having the self-confidence of a skyscraper.”

Seongwoo cackles. “It’s me who should be thanking you. It’s hard to get jealous when you’re so obviously wrapped around my little finger.”

“Oh, please.”

“Admit it!” laughs Seongwoo. “You’re too far gone for me.”

“Shut up or I’ll teach you a lesson.”

“Oooh, by all means, _please_ do.”

“Now that I’m back to normal, I might not be as… wild as last night,” admits Minhyun with an embarrassed flush. His tone, however, is full of confidence, and it makes Seongwoo roll over on his back in anticipation. “Maybe I’m a little tamer. But it doesn’t mean I can’t make it just as good.”

“You’re wrong, it does,” Seongwoo leans over to nip at his bottom lip. “It means you can make it even _better_.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> any concrit/feedback is welcome! ♥ i hope you enjoyed reading this fic!


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